I Just Want To Be Kept After Work By My Boss And Used As Her Footstool. I Don’t Think This Is Too Much

I’d really like a mummydom to teach me how to go down on her strap-on with lots of soft encouragement and telling me how proud she is of me, followed by a pegging where I’m told what a good, slutty boy I’m being. Of course I’d say thank you for the kind treatment afterwards.

Put me into a deep trance, dress me in a short skirt and a tight top, then take me for a walk. Sit with me on a bench and put your hand up my skirt to fondle me. Tell me what a good boy I’m being for mummy.

Today I saw a woman wearing a T-shirt as a dress. It came to just beneath her butt and she was stood in front of me on the tube, facing away from me. She had such nice, smooth legs, I couldn’t look away. I just wanted to kneel down on the floor and peek up at her butt. I wanted to show her how much of a dumb simp I could be, mindlessly staring at her sexy legs. I wanted to be easy to tease and control.

Collar me, attach a leash, and slip the handle around your ankle so I have to crawl around after you and can only see your feet. Nothing more arousing for a leashed, chaste puppy slave.

I want to paint mummy’s toenails for her before she goes out on a date then kiss her feet goodbye and thank her for dating other guys.

I’d love to wake up in a locked crib in a pink nursery, completely swaddled in a nappy and mittens, feeling groggy and not knowing how I got there. Then a demurely dressed woman who I’ve never seen before walks in and I hear myself say “Hello mummy, thank you for catching me.”

I don’t want to be a grown-up making decisions. I want to sit at mummy’s feet staring up at her adoringly as she makes all my decisions for me.

Train me. Brainwash me. Make me absolutely desperate to please you, terrified any time I think I’ve done something that will even slightly displease you.

Fantasy idea: there’s another lockdown (I don’t want this in reality but let’s work with it in this fantasy world). My boss asks me if I’d like to stay with her and her partner. She tells me she knows I just want to be a mindless pet and that’s how she’ll keep me. She puts me in a chastity cage, takes my phone and all my clothes away, puts a gag in my mouth, and shows me the new clothes she’ll be giving me to wear.

New clothes are frilly knickers and small, too-short T-shirts that ride up as I wear them, exposing my belly for that extra feeling of vulnerability. Maybe some mittens and ankle socks or booties too, just to make me feeling that bit more childish and subdued.

I then spend my days curled up at my boss’s feet, sometimes kissing and massaging them. Maybe occasionally I’m allowed to snuggle under a blanket with her. At meal times I eat from a bowl on the floor as my boss and her partner eat at a table or on the couch with me at their feet. At nighttime I curl up to sleep in a big pile of pillows and blankets, or maybe a big quilty basket. Occasionally, or maybe often, my gag is removed and I have normal chats about our shared interests with my boss, as if me kneeling before her dressed in such an embarrassing fashion and completely at her mercy is the most normal situation in the world.

Love the idea of being led around a lingerie store by a mummy domme, being given armfuls of stuff to carry and being referred to as “mummy’s special boy.”